The Folly of Vanity
by Ploxy
Summary: Dante was an aspiring young alchemist with no resources after her mother burned all of her books on alchemy. When a mysterious and powerful alchemist came to her town, she begged him to teach her everything he knew. He took her as his student, and more.


**In case you couldn't figure it out from the summary, this is the story of how Dante and Hohenheim met. I hope you enjoy my take on their history.**

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"I shouldn't have to hide it!"

The spot on Dante's cheek where her mother had dealt an unforgiving slap began to turn red. She placed her hand on her face, feeling the warmth that it emitted. It stung.

"You are insane," her mother answered. "If anyone should see you, you could be mistaken for a witch! Do you want to be taken away, to be chained and thrown behind bars with the scum of the earth?"

"Mother, it isn't witchcraft, it's science. Think of all the things I could do!"

"You won't be doing anything if they come to take you away. Stop this nonsense." She pulled Dante to her feet, and quickly left the room, shutting the door behind her.

Dante glared at the door for a moment before glancing down at the hem of her dress. She had noticed a tear in it, so she had started to draw a transmutation circle in chalk on the floor to attempt to repair it. She was almost finished when her mother entered her bedroom, who, upon noticing the circle, decided to punish her daughter. The woman feared alchemy, for the authorities saw a fine line between harmless science and malevolent witchcraft. Worse than having her daughter arrested and sentenced to death would be having the town know her as the woman who harbored a witch in her house.

Dante no longer had her beloved alchemy books. Her mother had become so upset that, while Dante was out, she burned every book and page of notes that Dante owned. Dante cried that night, and cursed her mother. Once she had calmed, she wrote down everything she could remember about alchemy as quickly as possible, and made a hole in the wall, behind her nightstand, and hid her new notes. This collection was not as informative as her small library of books, but she refused to believe that she had lost everything.

Certain that her mother would not be back to bother her, Dante continued to draw her transmutation circle. It was a simple configuration, but it was difficult for her to learn much more when her mother refused to allow her to buy more books. However, a simple circle was sufficient for something as elementary as repairing fabric. She pulled the torn end into the center of the circle, and as quietly as she could manage, she clapped her hands, and pressed them to the floor. A flash of light appeared, and when Dante looked down again, she saw that the hem was restored.

She pulled the skirt of her dress closer for a better look. All of the stitching matched together, and there wasn't a single fray. Pleased with her work, she set her skirt down, and went downstairs.

"Dante," her mother called. "Unless you have more devilish arts to pursue, could you please go to the butcher for me?" She held out a piece of paper with instructions written in a neat hand, along with a small bag containing payment.

Dante glared back at her. She had planned on going out to see her closest friend, Florence. Florence also had an interest in alchemy, but lacked Dante's unusual natural talent. She often begged Dante to tutor her in secret, to which Dante gladly agreed.

"Certainly, mother," Dante curtly replied. She snatched the paper and the small bag, and quickly left the house.

Once outside, Dante took a deep breath, appreciating the cool breeze. The town was nestled in a large valley, bordered by mountains and hills covered in a dark, lush forest. It was once a quiet town, but hysteria had taken over once the witch trials had begun. Dante couldn't recall who it was who had been accused first, but her mother had been harsh on her since then, wanting to do away with alchemy completely. A few alchemists had been on trial, accused of using their abilities to do harm to others. When the judges could not tell the difference between a transmutation circle and a curse, there was nothing that these poor scientists could do to save themselves. Because of this, Dante was always careful to perform alchemy in private, lest she herself be accused of witchcraft by an enemy.

Dante had enough enemies to know that even the slightest slip could put her on trial. She was beautiful, and quite vain about it. She prided herself in her appearance. She was an intellectual, and she knew that if someone claimed that the books she read were full of spells, the judges would delight in adding another person to the long list of witches to be killed.

She walked quietly and gracefully down the pathway, passing by the tailor's shop and the bakery. The butcher's shop was at the other end of the town, and the quickest way was to go straight through town and pass the town hall. It was an enormous brick building with white pillars outside. When the sun sat just right in the sky, the hall cast a long, eerie black shadow on the once empty space in front of it. This space, paved in cobblestone, was now home to the gallows. There was a large spot covered in ashes where criminals were burned at the stake. Dante was certain that her mother wanted her to pass this place as a reminder of what would happen if someone thought that she was using alchemy for evil. A slow death of drowning in the lake was another possibility. Her ankles would be tied to a heavy boulder, and she would be left to die slowly in darkness, until her aching lungs ran out of air.

The butcher's shop was one of the cleanest and most attractive buildings in the town, presumably because the butcher was wealthy enough to afford to keep it that way. The windows were always clear and spotless. There were roses planted in a neat line in front of the shop. Even the alley beside the building was clean and empty.

From outside, Dante could see that the butcher wasn't behind the counter. She pushed the door open, which rang a tiny bell, alerting the man working in the back of the shop.

"Just a minute!" he cheerfully called. His voice was deep and strong. It well suited him.

Dante wondered what lay behind the door leading to the back of the shop. Unlike other butchers, this one was always sure to keep the blood and gore away from the good people of the town. She had never been to any other butcher shop, and had always wondered what the dirty work looked like. The front room smelled of nothing but clean, fresh air.

The butcher entered from behind the heavy door that lead to the back. He was a large man, dressed in dark clothes and a black leather apron, with black leather gloves to match. A red cloth was tied around his head and covered it. He was remarkably clean, and even from behind the counter, Dante could smell his cologne. He smiled widely at her.

"Hello, ma'am," he said. "What can I do for you?"

Dante quickly handed him the paper with her mother's instructions and the bag of money. He nodded, and with another smile, he disappeared behind the heavy door. Dante tried to peek behind it as he disappeared, but he was quick, and she saw nothing.

A few moments later, he returned with a large piece of meat, wrapped in brown paper. He handled it carefully, treating it as if it were an egg he was afraid of dropping.

"Fine taste you have, ma'am," he said. "I made sure to take the finest piece I had. I hope you enjoy it. If you don't, come back and tell me, and I'll give you something better, free of charge."

"You must be awfully certain that I will be satisfied," Dante answered.

"This is true, ma'am. I don't mean to be so proud, but in my shop is the best meat you'll taste for miles around. I'm the only one who works with it. I wouldn't allow anyone else to touch it. I don't think anyone else knows how to give it a special touch."

"That's quite a statement. Say, mister, do you think you could answer one small request?"

"I'd be delighted to try."

"Your shop is so lovely. It makes me wonder what your work room looks like. Do you think you could let me back for just a moment to see it?"

He laughed a deep, booming laugh. "That's quite the request. What a brave young lady you are. However, I'm afraid I can't let you back there. It's no place for a pretty thing like you. I wouldn't be much of a gentleman if I let you see all the nasty things that go on in my shop."

"How unfortunate. I suppose I had better be on my way, then."

"Alright. You have a lovely afternoon."

Dante turned on her heel, and headed for the door when the butcher called for her again.

"One more thing, ma'am," he said. "I wouldn't go saying things like what you said to me to anyone else. I may appreciate a woman with a bit courage, but anyone else might think you strange, and during times like these, strange is what gets you into real trouble. I'd hate to see a nice lady like you at the gallows. Be careful, understand?"

"Of course," Dante purred. With that, she left.

The parcel was heavier than she expected. The butcher really did want her to have his best meat.

As she approached her home, she heard a soft voice call from behind her.

"Dante, my pretty flower!" a girl Dante's age called. Dante turned to see Florence walking quickly towards her, the fabric of her dress swishing as she moved and the heels of her expensive shoes clacking on the road.

Dante smiled. Florence was a silly thing who easily entertained her. She was so bright, so happy, and so lovely. Her dark blonde waves of hair bounced as she came closer. It was times like this, when Dante watched her gleam in the sunlight, that she wished she could just have her.

Florence flung her arms around her, squeezing her tightly. "Dante, I missed you!"

"Yes, I missed you too," she replied.

"May I walk with you?"

"Of course."

Overjoyed, Florence hooked her arm around Dante's, and they walked together, back towards Dante's home. The sun was setting, and as it grew colder, Florence drew closer to her dearest friend. Dante knew very well that Florence seldom talked to others. The other women of the town thought her to be very strange and too talkative. Despite this, Florence remained as sweet as ever, especially towards Dante.

"My sweet, have you heard?" Florence asked eagerly.

"What about?"

"Well, I know full well how much you adore alchemy," Florence continued in nearly a whisper. "And since your mother destroyed your books, it's been so hard for you to pursue much more knowledge."

"Yes, Florence, thank you for reminding me."

"What I mean to say is that I heard a rumor that someone special is coming to town soon. Someone interesting."

"You think every stranger is interesting."

"Dante, this is serious! I think you will be very pleased. They say he's an alchemist, and a powerful one at that."

Dante stopped in her tracks, almost causing Florence to trip. Since fear had long taken over the town, it was impossible to find anyone who would admit to having an interest in alchemy. If some powerful alchemist was coming, this would be her chance to learn everything that she wanted to know. She didn't care if she would be accused of witchcraft for it. If she died for something worthwhile, she would die happily.

"What is his name?" Dante begged. "What does he look like?"

Florence laughed. "Don't worry, my dearest. Once I find out, I'll be sure to tell you. Knowing you, though, you're bound to find out before I do. I hope he takes you as his student. Then you can teach me everything you learn."

"Don't be silly. We can learn together."

"No, I'm sure someone who is so powerful that rumors precede his arrival would never take a nitwit like me as a student."

"We'll just have to find out," Dante said as they reached her home. "This is where we part, for today. I'll be sure to see you soon."

"Very soon!" Florence kissed Dante on the cheek before leaving.

"Florence," Dante called as the girl walked away. "It's getting dark. Please, get home quickly. I wouldn't want something to happen to a lovely thing like you."

Florence blushed, and smiled. "The same to you."

As Dante watched Florence leave, she felt something odd inside of her. The things she felt towards Florence were things she had never experienced before. It wasn't envy. She was delighted that someone so beautiful existed. She was so perfect. However, she dismissed this feelings, for it would be impossible for her to become Florence.


End file.
